What Kind Of Week Has It Been
by Roga
Summary: Chase gets abducted by space cowboys! And episode filler for 3x13 Needle in a Haystack, answering the eternal question of 'where is Chase'. Firefly crossover.


**Notes:** I was only going to write a Chaseian episode filler for 3x13 (Needle in a Haystack). It _really_ wasn't supposed to turn out this long. MY FICS DON'T LISTEN TO ME, DAMN IT. Once again, this is the result of Chase getting just enough plot this season to... okay, I can't think of any thing he _does_ have enough plot for. QED.

**What Kind Of Week Has It Been**

Snow crunched softly under Chase's shoes as he trudged his way across the hospital roof, leaving a set of trim footprints behind him. Cameron and Foreman were performing the arteriogram to check if Stevie had DVT, and Chase had decided to take a much deserved break from doing nothing of any significance whatsoever in the past four weeks. (Other than break into a house, that is, but the only people to whom _that_ was significant were the couple he'd walked in on and Cameron, who had spent the entire ride back ridiculing him for his embarrassing failure at 'pulling a House'.)

So while the other fellows were working, and House was practicing wheelchair tricks in his office and, he had disclosed, trying to invent new methods of physical intimidation without a cane, Chase took the time to gaze at the white-blanketed New Jersey cityscape, breathe in the crisp winter air, and reflect upon those existential questions that had been bothering him of late. Why had he been stuck in such a rut ever since he'd had that epiphany about the little girl's porphyria? How long could he extend his fellowship with House before the general consensus turned from 'how brave' to 'how odd' to 'how creepy'? Where had all the nice, long-legged, completely sober girls who found Australian accents hot disappeared to? And was that huge cloud descending from the sky God himself arriving to answer all these questions, or a plane on its way to crashing into the hospital roof, in which case Chase was spending the last seconds of his life hoping desperately that when they found his body either his face or his sweater vest would be charred beyond recognition?

When the gleaming metal monster emerged from the cloud and came to a sudden halt in midair, the first thought that ran through Chase's mind was _ah, then, a spaceship,_ followed by _if this were really a heart attack there'd probably be some pain in my left arm, so I'm clear there_. Of course, his arm was numb enough from the cold that it probably wasn't feeling anything right now, but that was beginning to seem irrelevant compared with the broad range of alien abduction scenarios his mind was busily supplying him with.

Frozen in his spot, Chase couldn't stop staring at the hovering ship.

It lowered a ramp. And spoke.

_"Who the_ hell _opened the gorram ramp? Somebody close the damn thing now! Close the ram—wait, wait! Pull back, you're going to hit that boy's—"_

* * *

When Chase woke up he was lying on what he assumed was an operating table. He blinked a few times against the harsh white light that was pointed at his face.

So. It _was_ an alien abduction after all. He wondered if they were interested in his mind at all or would skip the mental experimenting stage and jump right into impregnation.

Blinking a few more times, Chase was finally able to focus his eyes, and he let them travel across the room, which was stocked with medical equipment, most of which looked familiar. His gaze settled on a lean man who was sitting in a chair, reading something from a flat electronic board that was laying on his lap. One of his arms was awkwardly nestled into a sling, cast from the elbow to the wrist.

Chase tried sitting up but was surprised by the sudden sharp pain in his head. His grunt caused the man to look up from his reading material. "Oh, good," he said pleasantly, rising from his seat. "You're awake. How do you feel?"

Interesting - Chase could understand him. He allowed himself to momentarily worry on the possibility that an Alien-to-English translator was implanted in his brain, but shook off the thought, and anyway, extra languages always looked good on your resume. "Er, just a headache," he replied, and then pointed out, "you have a vest." It made him feel an odd sort of kinship with the other man, extraterrestrial or not.

The vest-clad man looked at him strangely. "I'm a doctor," he said, as if that explained it. Chase supposed in a way it did. "Hold still for a moment." The man flashed a light into Chase's eyes, and Chase dutifully tried not to flinch. After a moment, the man said, "Well, there's not much point in asking you general questions, but I don't think you have a concussion. I'll let the captain know, and we should have you back on your planet in no time."

Before Chase could mumble, "er, thanks?" the doctor was already out the door.

Well. Chase wasn't quite sure what to think of this. Rationalization could only work so far – there came a point when you had to face up to the fact that something truly weird was going on, something that wasn't the hallucinatory product of House slipping drugs into your eggnog at the Christmas party as some kind of joke that only House found hilariously amusing.

He pushed himself to his feet, saw that he was stable enough to walk, and wandered outside the infirmary. A short enclosed corridor led him to what appeared to be some sort of cargo bay, where he was immediately accosted by a pretty, brown-haired girl whose greasy overalls Chase found unexpectedly sweet.

"I am so sorry!" she blurted when she saw him, apropos to nothing. "I _told_ the cap'n we needed another new compression coil else our girl'd get all rumbley and uncooperative again, and then she _did_, 'cept it was about a week earlier than I'd thought, and the ship just kinda came crashing down. But I caught her in time!" She cheerfully waved a wrench in front of Chase. "Me an' Wash, he's the pilot, got her stopped just in time."

"Ah," Chase said.

The girl grinned and stuck out a hand. "I'm Kaylee. Ship's mechanic."

"Robert Chase," he said, automatically shaking her small hand. It certainly felt human. He hoped that if any impregnation was to be going on, at least it would be by her. She didn't _look_ like she was hiding any tentacles. "Is there, er, any particular reason I'm here?" he inquired.

Kaylee blushed. "Well, fixin' Serenity – that's the ship – in mid-plunge, wasn't all that much order on board, and when it looked like we was about to crash Jayne opened the ramp so's to jump out. Only like I said, we stopped in time. And the closing ramp kinda…" Her blush deepened. "…hit you a little."

"A little enough to knock me unconscious," he stated.

"Yup," she nodded.

"And then you decided to bring me on board your ship."

"Yup."

He lifted his eyebrows. "Instead of depositing me in the ER of the _hospital I was standing on._"

Kaylee's eyes widened. "That was a hospital?"

It was an effort not to reply with a 'yup'. "Yes," he said.

She fiddled with her wrench, sheepishly looking down. "Well, I feel dumber'n a box of rocks."

"Hey!"

Chase jumped, and turned around to find another of the ship's probably-humans advancing towards them. He was wearing suspenders to hold up his high-waistband trousers, and oh, how nice, a gun. "Ain't no one gonna make Kaylee feel dumb on my ship," the man said menacingly. "Kaylee, this boy giving you trouble?"

"No!" She put a hand on the man's shoulder. "No, Cap'n. He just shouldn't be here is all. Seems we took him away from a hospital. Mr. Chase, this is Malcolm Reynolds, Serenity's captain."

"Doctor," Chase corrected instinctively. "Dr. Chase, actually."

The look the captain gave him turned speculative. "Is that right?"

Chase wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer. "It is right."

"You any good?"

"Yes."

"Patients live and all?"

"Yes." Chase reconsidered. "Well, except for when I get news that one of my parents has died. But they're both dead now, so there's no more chance of that happening."

"Hmm." Captain Reynolds stroked his chin.

Kaylee looked up at him nervously. "What are you thinking about, Cap'n? We already got Simon."

Reynolds was still assessing Chase. "Case you haven't noticed, our little tumble left Simon with a broken arm. Got a few jobs this week, and it'd sure put my mind at ease to have a capable doctor around. Not that we're prone to injury or anything on this boat," he added, addressing his words to Chase. "Just a precaution." He crossed his arms, his greenish-brown gaze meeting Chase's own with a small smirk. "Well, what do you say, doctor? Care for a temporary job?"

Chase blinked. A job offer was nowhere near any of the abduction scenarios he'd imagined. "I don't know."

"We pay in gold."

Certainly more appealing than getting paychecks on which House has scribbled 'manage this one well, and you might be able to afford decent porn by next month'. "I'll have to think about it," he said.

"All right," said Reynolds. "Think."

Chase tried to decide if anyone would miss his presence at the hosp—

"Time's up."

"Okay," he sighed.

* * *

The next day Chase didn't even notice he was distracted until Wilson caught him in the men's room and pointed out that red-white-and-blue-striped shirts didn't go well with yellow, green-polka-dotted ties, and Chase knew that when _Wilson_ was the one criticizing you wardrobe, you must have reached the bottom link of the fashion chain. Still, he didn't find it an effort concentrating on his day job – he dutifully offered his opinion in the differential, he monitored the MRI, he stood up when Stevie's crazy parents barged in the MRI room, rather pointlessly, since Cameron and Foreman took it upon themselves to argue them out of the room.

When his shift ended at six o'clock, he went up to the roof and waited.

Captain Reynolds grinned at him when he climbed aboard. "Ready to ride?"

"Beam me up, Scotty," he murmured, following Reynold's example and clasping his seatbelt.

Reynolds threw him a puzzled glance. "'Beam me up?' What do you think this is, kid, science fiction?"

Chase was about to respond when his stomach turned upside down in a sudden explosion of speed, and after a moment, so did he.

When his internal organs caught up with the spaceship, Chase turned to glare at the captain. "Thanks for the warning," he croaked, but Reynolds had already unfastened his seatbelt, rounding up the rest of the crew in the dining area for a pre-job debriefing. Chase followed on slightly swaying legs and listened with interest, noting but not commenting on the number of weapons some of the crew members were casually decorating themselves with. At least, he figured, having an intensivist around might actually turn out useful.

No one was badly injured that first day. Chase cleaned up some superficial wounds, sutured one relatively deep gash on Zoe's head, and, with Simon's guidance, used a sort of foamy gun tool to close up an even deeper cut on Jayne's thigh, which was kind of cool.

At the end of the night he was deposited atop the roof of his building, and managed to catch four hours of sleep before work. For no particular reason, he dreamed about juggling geese.

* * *

Stevie's crazy parents had decided to gypsify his hospital room, and while Foreman and Cameron got themselves worked up about it, Chase, once again, didn't interfere, having reached the conclusion that while gypsies were nice and all, space pirates were infinitely cooler. House was still insisting that Stevie had Wegener's Granulomatosis, and though Chase didn't agree, he didn't press the issue – he had no alternative to offer, and besides, House was in his obsessing stage, which meant that it would either take a lap dance from Cuddy to swerve his single-mindedness off track, or he would simply dig deeper and deeper until a completely random sports score or talking cricket or funnily shaped pear gave him an epiphany that flawlessly explained everything.

Stevie's surgery flew by while Chase was taking a nap, and then it was tic tac toe, the House version, and honestly, Chase couldn't understand how Cameron and Foreman were able to concentrate at all with House wearing those biker gloves and constantly waving them around. Then came House's declaration that Foreman had spunk, and Chase's blood rose to his head so rapidly that for a moment he seriously considered quitting his job and joining Serenity's crew for good.

By the time his shift was over, he was itching to fly.

* * *

It was his third time on Serenity, and by now he felt comfortable enough to tell Book that he really wasn't interested in arguing about theology. As per request, he arrived with gifts: strawberries for Kaylee, Playboy for Jayne, and, oddly enough, a Transformers Dinobot doll for Wash, which the pilot seemed inordinately pleased about.

As the captain led his mission, Chase spent a quiet evening trying to teach Simon lyrics that, surprisingly, River caught on to much faster.

"'We're best friends, just like?'" he prompted.

"Amoxicillin and clavulanic acid," River supplied immediately, "the tibia, the fibula, the left and right ventricle; a hypodermic needle and a latex tourniquet—"

"River, do you even know what those mean?" Simon sighed, but Chase could hear the fondness that hid beneath the exasperation.

River giggled. "Do you want me to draw them for you?"

"I know them already, thanks," Simon grumbled.

"Too bad," she said whimsically. "I draw nice bodies. We could have played tic tac toe."

Chase gave her a strange look. Smiled mysteriously, she looked at the ceiling.

* * *

On his fourth day on Serenity, Chase met Inara Serra for the first time. She'd arrived in her shuttle, and a short conversation and cup of tea later had her demonstrating a lower back massage on him, and _damn_, she was good. Chase's bones practically melted under her touch, and he cursed his own brain for always raising the image of House whenever methods of pain-relief came up, leaving Chase unable to enjoy his massage in peace.

The serenity of Inara's shuttle was disrupted by the door flinging open. "Doctor, we need you," a voice barked, underlined with desperation, and before Chase consciously identified it as Jayne's he was halfway to the infirmary, shirt back on, slapping on a pair of latex gloves he kept in his pocket.

"What happened?" he breathed as he stepped into the room. It took him a second to gauge the situation: Zoe and Kaylee, covered in blood, were trying to soothe a weakly struggling Reynolds, who was lying on the operating table. Simon was pulling out equipment, and the blood, Chase realized, was all coming from the captain.

"They took us by surprise," Jayne said angrily, as Chase took his place by the table, "shot him in the back, the fucking _hwoon dahns_—"

"Just the facts, Jayne," Chase instructed. "How many times was he shot, from what distance?"

"Twice," Jayne replied, and from the corner of his eye Chase could see him pacing. "'Bout three hundred yards away. It was snipers."

Simon had already connected Reynolds to two monitors and was trying to one-handedly open an air-locked hypodermic needle with his teeth. Chase took it from him and ripped the packet open, glancing at the label – Tolezapam, which he didn't recognize. He lifted his eyes to Simon questioningly.

"Sedative," Simon explained, "it'll bring him under." As Chase injected the drug, Simon continued, "He was hit in the shoulder and in the chest, but I found two exit wounds…"

Chase freed his head from every concern that had weighed on him during the past month and focused entirely on Reynolds, handling his body with steady hands and a sharp mind, making decisions before he even thought of them. It was like a dance, trauma: a series of mutual responses between you and biology, each wanting to be one step ahead of the other, except nothing was choreographed and you had to anticipate the other's moves and react in time. Even after three years in Diagnostics, it was still here that Chase felt at most in his element.

He worked on the patient, breaking his only once when he murmured for Jayne to take Kaylee and Inara out of the room, and for Zoe to stay and assist. Jayne was just as agitated as Kaylee and Inara, and Zoe's calm obedience was the best available substitution for a nurse – the others just got in the way.

No severed arteries, no major nerves injured, no damage to the heart, and lucky for Reynolds, Simon's fancy equipment was enough to prevent any need for further surgery. When the captain was stabilized Chase sent Zoe away too. He cleaned and dressed the open wounds himself, and then went over antibiotics with Simon, choosing which ones to put him on.

"He'll be all right," he told the rest of the crew when he finally stepped out of the infirmary. "It'll take him a few weeks to recover, but he'll be fine."

Kaylee smiled through her red eyes, and he saw Inara squeeze her hand so hard it probably hurt. Wash murmured something in Zoe's ear, and she nodded, giving him a small kiss before he returned to the bridge. Book let out a sigh of relief; Jayne grunted, and something about the tense way he held his shoulders softened; and River didn't look at all surprised. "Shower?" she asked him.

For a horrifying moment Chase thought it was an invitation, and his eyes flew to Book, who glowered and mouthed something that looked like 'Special Hell'. But then Inara came forward and said, "You can use my shuttle to wash up. It's cleaner and actually smells nice, as opposed to what this band of outlaws use," she said, a sliver of humor reflecting behind long lashed eyes. Kaylee and River simultaneously stuck their tongues out, and Inara's musical laugh was suddenly revealed as the magic ingredient that broke the tension in the room.

"Thanks," Chase exhaled, and it was strange to realize that his dark blue tartan vest was covered in blood, he had just saved the life of someone he was pretty certain was a criminal, the only thing he had to look forward to was a recycled-water bath and some protein for his next meal, and oh, yeah, he was floating somewhere in space – and it was the happiest he could remember feeling all year.

* * *

Nobody mentioned anything about the fact the he arrived at work the next day wearing suspenders and looking like he hadn't got any sleep. But then, Foreman was still absorbed in convincing Stevie that if he just worked hard he could turn into a successful black neurologist, Cameron was making friends with Stevie's extended family in an attempt to apologize for House's earlier rudeness, and House himself was still preoccupied with writing his new book, One Thousand And One Useless Things You Can Do With A Wheelchair If You're Not Really Paralyzed From The Waist Down. Chase spent his morning unobtrusively napping in the on call room, and his afternoon in the NICU.

* * *

Chase's fifth day on Serenity was his last. He was really only there to follow up on Captain Reynolds, who looked good for someone who'd been shot twice in the past twenty four hours, but it seemed Reynolds was used to injury. "You did good, kid," he told Chase, smiling easily from his bed, and it was almost ridiculous how wistful the words made Chase feel. Reynolds couldn't have been more than a few years older than him, but the authority he carried himself with might as well have belonged to a PPTH department head, even when he was half drugged and out of it, and it suited him well.

Not that Chase was making any comparisons to anyone or anything.

"Sorry I got shot," Reynolds said, waving his hand at his chest, as if Chase needed a reminder that that was where the bullet struck.

"'S'alright," he said, and shrugged. "Apparently these things happen to all my employers."

"No, really, I'm sorry I got shot. Hurts like a _tyen-sah duh_ bitch." The captain grinned at him, and Chase found himself grinning back. "Your pay's with Zoe. You sure 'bout not staying?"

Chase nodded. "Give me a call, though. Next time you're in the… galaxy. Or whatever."

"Right, then," said Reynolds, and smoothly slipped back into his drug induced slumber.

Simon held out his healthy hand. "It was good working with you," he said warmly.

"Er, you too," Chase said, unused to such friendly familiarity from fellow doctors, although he was begging to think he might try it sometime.

Almost everyone else was in the dining room, and from there they bade him goodbye as well. Feeling like he should impart some words of wisdom before he left, he turned to them all and said, "Look, be careful when you use toothpicks, all right?"

All of the expressions he received in response were bewildered but Jayne's. Jayne looked like he understood what he was talking about.

"Okay. So, goodbye, then," Chase said, and made his way to the ships ramp, only stopping in Zoe's bunk to collect his pay. When he opened the door he was greeted by the sight of Zoe and Wash in a very… compromising position. He shut his eyes and groaned, "No, crap, not again."

"Table," he heard Zoe gasp, and he frantically felt around the wooden table until his fingers brushed a small bag that jingled. He grabbed it tightly and shut the door, muttering "so sorry!" behind him.

* * *

The New Jersey air was still clear and chilly in the morning, and Chase decided to exchange his black leather jacket for the much warmer brown leather coat he had bought a few years back.

Nothing was at all unusual about PPTH, which was kind of disappointing. Nothing actually felt any different at all. At the end of the day, Stevie was released. Foreman went home. House was seen disappearing with Wilson, which meant things were actually returning to normal, and he was walking on two feet again.

Chase missed… something.

He caught up with Cameron just as she was leaving the hospital premises. "You want to go grab a cup of coffee?" he asked.

She looked at him like… well, like he had just fallen from outer space, actually. "Why?"

He shrugged. "No reason. Just a cup of coffee."

"Are you asking me out?" She looked confused, and he felt his lips quirk up – for a moment, she reminded him of Kaylee.

"No," he assured her. "Not a date. Just a cup of coffee." It was starting to snow. He brushed a gloved hand through his hair, shaking a few snowflakes out.

"Well, it's getting kind of— I'm not sure if—"

"Jesus, Cameron, it's just a cup of coffee!" he laughed. "I promise you, I'm not harboring any _intentions_, and I won't make any jokes about you and House. I just want to get a cup of coffee and not freeze to death here on the pavement and while I'm perfectly capable of doing both of those things alone, I don't feel like it tonight."

She hesitated, looking unsure whether she should trust him, and it hit Chase then, how wrong things were. And the truth was that he knew that if she'd turn him down, he really wouldn't care – he honestly wouldn't, and tomorrow would be just the same as last week, with work being just outside bearable on the good days and him looking at Cameron and seeing an uptight bitch, which to be fair, she probably wasn't. And he really, truly wouldn't care.

But the thing was… he missed something.

"Okay," Cameron said quietly.

But maybe that something could be filled.

"Okay," Chase repeated, genuinely glad. "Let's go then. Starbucks, or do want to go somewhere else?"

They started walking towards Chase's car, snow brushing softly against their faces, exhaling puffs of steam. There was no winter in space, Chase knew. Score one for Earth.

"So," Cameron asked, turning sideways to look at him as they walked. "Something very weird has been going on in the last few days. But you're not going to believe me."

"Try me."

"It's really weird. I mean, it's something I thought was made up, but now I'm not so sure. I… I think I saw something. Something in the sky. At night."

"Okay."

"Do you believe in…" Her pause was rich with embarrassment. "Have you ever heard of the Flying Spaghetti Monster?"

Chase snorted.

That night, Chase dreamt about stars.

* * *

**End Notes:** If you don't know the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster go to venganza dot org. The lyrics Chase taught Simon and River are from the song "Friends Forever" from the Scrubsmusical episode.

Chinese translations:

_hwoon dahns_ - bastards  
_tyen-sah duh_ - goddamn

**And last, a deleted scene:**

Chase had heard nurses saying Wilson had so much of 'teh gay' for House you could actually see it from space. On his fifth day on Serenity, he checked.

To his very acute disappointment, you couldn't. It really was too bad. He'd wanted to take polaroids.


End file.
